


hoping to hit you somewhere vital (and when i miss, you come and kiss me with a smile)

by sapphfics



Category: Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, In-Universe True Crime, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphfics/pseuds/sapphfics
Summary: When she wakes up, someone is holding her bad hand.Grace yanks it away instinctively and bites her tongue to hold back a scream.Because sitting beside her hospital bed is Daniel Le Domas. Alive, and still drinking. Or maybe it’s apple juice, she doesn’t know.She turns on a light even though the sun is streaming in, just to do something with her hands. “Fucks sake, am I still in a nightmare?”“Nice to see you too,” Daniel says, and he tries to laugh but can’t quite manage it.Or: In which Grace enters recovery, the media goes wild over the Le Domas Massacre and Daniel somehow turns up alive because apparently deals with the devil aren’t enough to deter a miraculous resurrection.
Relationships: Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 185





	hoping to hit you somewhere vital (and when i miss, you come and kiss me with a smile)

Recently widowed Grace Le Domas lived a troubled life long before she met her future husband and his family of wannabe satanists. She grew up in foster care, frequently changing homes and detaching from her adoptive parents, before meeting her husband Alex whilst working as a waitress in a local diner the rich rarely frequented. At the time, Alex was estranged from his family, at least until his parents offered to pay for the wedding on the precision it was held at their mansion. During the night, it is assumed that the father, Tony Le Domas, killed his family with some outdated explosives before setting the house ablaze and turning his weapon on himself. Though at least seventeen people both family members and staff were accounted for that evening, only Grace emerged from the burning house covered in their blood, and sat on the stone steps to smoke a cigarette. She was quickly assessed by paramedics and is now in recovery. The Church of Satan has since denounced the Le Domas family in a tweet made after Grace’s story of remarkable survival broke mainstream media. 

— _Bloody Wedding Night, The Le Domas Massacre and the Harrowing Survival of Grace Le Domas_ , New York Times

It’s really a testament to how fucked up her life has become that when Grace wakes up without any blood on her, she panics. 

(Testament. Grace has never been particularly religious, though she used to celebrate some religions in the different families she was passed around during the years, but the hospital she’s in left a bible in a drawer beside her bed like she’s in a hotel. And it’s a nice hospital, all things considered, because though she’s a widow now she’s still entitled to her late husband’s lucrative health insurance.) 

She’s been dreaming of that horrible night again. She wonders if she will ever stop. 

She sits up in her hospital bed, turns on a light, not that she needs to, just to do something with her good hand. It’s hardly ever dark here. She puts a hand through her hair, washed and cut the bits too matted with blood and bits of dead animals to save. The nurse who had done it had stroked her head like a mother, apologised when she nearly caught Grace’s ear. Grace has been getting a lot of unnecessary apologies as of late. Not ones from anyone who did this to her. 

Her hand is bandaged now, wrapped neatly like a present. She can now move her middle finger to flip off members of the public who try and look through her window. 

Fucking tourists, she thinks, hoping to get a selfie with me or some shit. 

Grace isn’t sure what she looks like now. She’s not looked in a mirror for a week. It’s probably for the best. She sips from her warm glass of water she keeps beside her bed. Her lips are dry and cracked, her wedding dress taken for evidence, and all her clothes had been at her apartment. Her wedding dress didn’t have a pocket for keys to the place. And given her only family is (was) Alex, that same nurse had taken pity of her, got her some of her old clothes to wear when she’s out. 

Grace knows she should be grateful for the kindness, but she has always hated being pitied. And it's a good thing she did, too. The hospital gown sticks to her skin with sweat. Grace should get up, but its three am and that requires moving, so she puts her head back on her pillow. 

She watches the world outside the hospital window until dawn. The sun reminds her she technically could have the Devil himself on her side, because she survived. Grace turns away, looks towards the ceiling, and laughs. The sound is not quite as hollow nor as foreign to her as she’s anticipated. 

How long has it been? She wonders. How many more people died because of fucking Hide and Seek? 

Grace shuts her eyes; she can hear nurses moving outside for their early start, or going home from their late shift. She doesn’t want them to know she’s awake, not yet, so she turns away from the door. 

She counts to ten in her head, over and over, and doesn’t have the mental energy to question why. 

(Daniel had given her ten seconds, a head start, he had wanted her to survive, he liked her. Alex hadn’t even told her anything— Alex, the man she married, had—)

Grace wakes up an hour later drenched in sweat again, to find a nurse checking on her. She’s young, not much older than Grace, but she’s got the look of someone who’s seen far too much for her age. Grace can relate, she supposes. 

“Good morning! Your story’s viral,” The nurse comments. 

“It’s not a story,” Grace grumbles. “It’s my trauma or whatever.” 

“I know and I’m sorry,” The nurse says, sadly. “If it helps, the social media commentary is more ‘eat the rich’ type stuff. I’d suggest redistributing your wealth or something, that’ll make you a legend. Just didn’t want you to find out any other way, you know.” 

“Thanks,” Grace grumbles again, forcing herself to sit up using her good hand. It’s too early to be thinking about what selfie the news is using to illustrate her life before and after. The nurse moves a pillow behind her back and Grace relaxes her neck into it. “Are my parents’ coming to see me yet?” 

The nurse sighs sadly and Grace lies back, stares the broken light fixture until her eyes hurt, and counts backwards from ten again. 

-:-

When she wakes up, someone is holding her bad hand. 

Grace yanks it away instinctively and bites her tongue to hold back a scream. 

Because sitting beside her hospital bed is Daniel Le Domas. Alive, and still drinking. Or maybe it’s apple juice, she doesn’t know. 

She turns on a light even though the sun is streaming in, just to do something with her hand, to get it as far away from him as possible. “Fucks sake, am I still in a nightmare?”

“Nice to see you too,” Daniel says, and he tries to laugh but can’t quite manage it. “You aren’t dreaming. I’m alive. Sorry I’m not Alex, and I’m sorry for your loss and I’m sorry I ever helped them—“

Grace rolls her eyes, cuts him off. “When you died, Alex helped try and sacrifice me. And no offence, I’ve had enough apologies and none of them from anyone who needed to. Except you, I guess. Thanks for not killing me. And I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“When I told you I didn’t want you to die, I meant it.” Daniel reminds her. “Fuck my family. I loved them and I’ll miss them, but killing innocent people on their wedding night has got to end sometime.” 

“I ended it,” Grace says and finds herself almost smiling. “I did that.”

“You did,” Daniel says. “But you shouldn’t have needed saving in the first place. Alex should’ve told you.” 

“There were a lot of things Alex should’ve done,” Grace says. “Why were you holding my bad hand?”

Daniel shrugs. “Didn’t wanna touch the IV.”

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Grace whispers, so quietly she almost hopes he can’t hear it. 

When Grace lets her hand fall near him again, Daniel takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> ...does anyone need another one of these aus? not really ig, but this thing has been gathering dust in my google docs so....sorry? might write more of them if i get inspiration but who knows 
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://sansaisalesbian.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lesbosansastark) if you feel so inclined! let’s be friends <333


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